


Culture Clash

by Mutive



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mutive/pseuds/Mutive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was less than half his age, and of a people who were not his own. She was also the one who had gotten them this far, and might well be the one to end the Blight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Culture Clash

"I still don't understand why you didn't kill her," Obsidian Aeducan said as she walked next to Loghain.

They had gone through this before. "She's my daughter," Loghain said.

"How peculiar," Obsidian said. She looked up at him. "In my land, she wouldn't even have been part of your caste."

"I have no other children," Loghain said. They'd had this conversation before, too, and it was no less exasperating the second time around.

Obsidian shook her head. "Do you mean to tell me that you couldn't find someone to give you a son?" She turned to him. "I know that human customs are different. That you don't have noble-hunters, and that caste is determined in some completely illogical fashion. But your wife has been dead for how long?"

"Fifteen years."

"And you couldn't remarry? Or find another woman to give you children? Or do something so that you'd have a spare, just in case something happened to Anora?"

Loghain would prefer not to know what Obsidian meant by 'something happened'. He had already heard how she had plotted against both of her brothers, and only been exiled after the younger double-crossed her before she could stab him in the back. "I loved my wife," he said. "So no, I did not remarry."

"Foolish humans," Obsidian said. "Most impractical." She stopped in front of him on the path, blocking him from moving forward. Her eyes scanned his face. "Are most humans like this?"

"Like what?"

"So foolishly sentimental."

Loghain almost started to laugh. Sentimentality was not a trait he generally associated with himself. He stopped himself. "Most would remarry. "

Obsidian nodded. "The production of heirs is important. One needs many strong swords in a noble household."

She did have something of a point there. Anora could use an ally at this time. But Celia had only given him one child, and by the time she had died, he had felt too old to begin again. There hadn't been time for the confusing and time consuming process of courtship and love.

"Would most humans also refuse to kill the only one who could stop them, just because she happened to be related to them?"

"Most humans would not kill their own daughter, no," Loghain said. The word "most" conveniently excluded Rendon Howe.

"Hmmm," Obsidian said, continuing along the path. "I'd been hoping to get a more realistic perspective on human customs from you. You see, I'd thought you'd be more practical than Alistair."

Loghain glowered at her. He was most definitely not like his future son-in-law.

"You know," Obsidian said, cocking her head at him. "Sentimentality is why I never bedded him."

He did not want to hear about this dwarf's relationship, or lack thereof, with the idiot who was now engaged to his daughter.

"He seemed weak," Obsidian continued, when Loghain refused to speak. "Any relationship with him would be a disgrace to my household. " She looked at him appraisingly. "I had thought that you would be better. Alistair often spoke of how ruthless and cunning you were. And Anora is a tribute to Ferelden politics, a reformer as brilliant and cut-throat as my younger brother."

Loghain had no desire to discuss his daughter with this Warden, although he supposed that Obsidian's approval might mean much in gaining beneficial trade arrangements between their kingdoms. "Why would sleeping with Alistair reflect poorly on your household?" Loghain asked, attempting to change the subject.

"I had thought when he was around that there was the possibility of off-spring," Obsidian said. She glanced up at Loghain. "Of half-dwarfs. I hadn't realized that Grey Wardens tend to be sterile. If I had known that, I might have tried him out. Or the elf. There's a certain logic in denying yourself a small thing to get something of greater value later on. But no reason to refuse to do something that gives you pleasure if there will be no consequences."

Loghain disagreed. Just because one did not understand the consequences of an action did not mean that there were none. It was best to avoid pleasure, for pleasure's sake. He had learned that lesson long ago.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Besides," Obsidian said. "I'm quite curious about human culture in all respects. I think that I'd like to study that aspect of it, too."

Loghain refused to respond to her with more than a grunt.

DA:O

Loghain supposed that it should not have surprised him when he turned towards the shore to find that Obsidian was watching him.

"What is it now?" he grunted, refusing to move from the deep water that he stood in. He wondered how much she had seen before he noticed her.

"Just curious," Obsidian said. Her eyes skimmed over his body. "The only other human male I've seen naked was Alistair. And not for long." She shook her head. "The silly boy ran off blushing as soon as he caught me at it."

"That's no way to get a girl," Loghain said, with a certain amusement. Obsidian had told him at length about Alistair's crush on her, a crush that seemed all the more peculiar considering how different the bastard prince's personality was from that of the dwarven princess.

"I know," Obsidian said, with a shake of her head. "If he weren't so shy, well…" She met Loghain's gaze with her own. "Dwarves are not so peculiar about such things, you know. Even between castes. " She paused for a long second, and Loghain wondered what she was plotting. At last she said, her voice taking on a softer tone, "I loved someone of the warrior caste, once."

Loghain was surprised to find himself somewhat uncomfortable with that knowledge. He suddenly wanted very much to get back into his clothing. "That is all very interesting," he said just to break the silence.

"More sad than interesting for me," Obsidian said with a small shrug. "He was exiled before I was, and remarried as soon as he got to the surface." She met his eye. "It hurt, but I do not blame him. It is foolish to waste time or to live a life with regrets."

Loghain found himself pondering what she meant by that as Obsidian turned her back on him and walked back to camp.

DA:O

She was, Loghain admitted to himself, something to watch in battle. Despite Obsidian's diminutive stature, she had enough strength to cut an ogre in two. She reminded him, somewhat, of Cauthrien and of Rowan. Of both of the beautiful warrior women that he had loved, despite that his feelings were never fully reciprocated by either.

He shook his head. Perhaps Obsidian was right in that emotion sometimes clouded his judgment. He had failed to win the Landsmeet because of a fear of Orlais that was considered irrational even by his own daughter; perhaps his feelings about his new commander were similarly illogical. Obsidian was strange, inhuman. But she was also intelligent, capable, and had succeeded in convincing the nobles of Ferelden to support her despite her alien nature.

She had been a worthy adversary, but was perhaps a worthy ally as well. As she returned from her kill, her armor splattered in blood, her green eyes sparkling, he found himself smiling. He let her take his hand, and lead him into Arl Eamon's castle, despite that he knew the battle against the darkspawn had only just begun.

DA:O

"So you've decided to die," Obsidian said, as she crept into Loghain's room late at night, long after he had refused Morrigan's offer. Though the words were harsh, the tone was curious. As though Obsidian could not determine why anyone would refuse the witch's aide.

"It's the wisest choice," Loghain said, turning to face her. She was wearing less than she usually did. A silken slip that clung to her curves, rather than her standard plate armor. She must have been getting ready for bed when Morrigan had found her. Still, her current dress suggested something different than the warrior he was accustomed to.

Obsidian pushed a small hand through her black hair, ruffling it so that it fell about her face in soft waves. "We can't be sure of that."

"No," Loghain said, sitting back on the bed. "But I would rather die than risk it. Besides, I have much to atone for."

"Hmph," Obsidian said, sitting down beside him. "You haven't really done that much that I would complain about. Poisoned a political rival. Allowed an ally to extract knowledge from opponents. Found a creative way of funding a war. I forgave Bhelen for far more." She leaned her head into him, the weight of it a gentle pressure on his arm.

"It still is not worth the risk. It is one life, versus the possibility of many."

Obsidian shifted against him. "You're right," she said. She moved again so that her entire body was pressed next to his. She was remarkably warm and soft, despite that he knew she was as strong as he was. Still, the warmth was a comfort. "And I respect that."

"Despite that you wanted me to do the ritual."

"I wanted to give you the choice. To let you consider every option available to us," Obsidian said. She placed a small hand on his thigh and squeezed it gently. "Besides, I'll admit that I'm not looking forward to death."

"I'll take the blow," Loghain said. He turned to look down at her. The flame of the lamp was reflected in her eyes.

"We'll decide who will when we face the demon, it if comes to that," Obsidian said. "Let Riordan kill the creature, if he can. He wants to, and Ferelden could use your help when she rebuilds after this war. If he falls, and both of us survive…well, then we can decide who dies. There is no need to discuss it until then. We have some time remaining. And who knows what will come? Most likely, all three of us will be dead in a few weeks' time. Best not to think of it."

No, it was best not to. There was a reason soldiers drank before battle.

The silence of the room hung between them. "Is that what you came here to say?" Loghain asked, to break the silence.

Obsidian shook her head. "I came here to apologize. About saying that you were like Alistair. You're not. I think that he would have chosen to live."

Loghain did not doubt that. "He is a young man," he said. It was both a compliment and a curse.

Obsidian nodded. "He is," she said. "But I'm not sure that he'd make this choice. Ever. He's a good man, but he has never been able to make the hard choices." She cleared her throat. "What I mean to say is that you're a better man than him. At least in my opinion. For what little that means."

It had begun to mean more to Loghain than he would have thought. "Thank you," he said. They sat beside each other for several long minutes in silence.

"I should go," Obsidian said. She rose from the bed, but stayed by it. She continued watching him.

"The door is just over there," Loghain said.

Obsidian gave a slight smile. "It is," she said. She continued looking at him, with a peculiar expression. "But I am finding that I do not want to spend what may be one of the last nights of my life alone."

Loghain met her gaze with his own. She was a fierce warrior, with a shrewd mind, and a silver tongue. She was the one responsible for getting them this far, and might well be the one to end the Blight. She was also less than half his age, and of a people that were not his own.

She cocked her head in the manner she did when thinking, then reached out and took his hand. "We will both likely be dead within the month. What we do here tonight is of no importance to anyone save ourselves. I would like that if you die, that I have this memory of you. And that if I die, that I have spent one of my last nights in your arms, rather than alone in my bed." She leaned down to kiss him. Her lips were warm and soft, her scent as inviting as that of freshly tilled earth.

"This is a foolish thing to do," Loghain said, after she broke the kiss. But even he could not determine a course of action that would be wiser. When she leaned down again to take his head in her hands and kiss him a second time, he found that he'd lost any will to resist.

He pulled her to him, so that she was straddling his lap, her hands wrapped about his head, pulling him to her to deepen their kiss. His hands slid down the sides of her body, touching the soft curves of her breasts and hips. She slid a hand under his tunic, caressing the planes of his chest, threading through the hair.

"You have less hair than a dwarf," Obsidian said, breaking the kiss to tug at his shirt with both hands.

Loghain found himself chuckling, as he helped her slide the tunic off. If he was to do this, he might as well do it properly. "Any other comparisons?"

Obsidian sat back and looked at him. "Well, you're taller for one. And too thin. Even the casteless have more meat on their bones."

Loghain ran a hand over the side of her body. Obsidian certainly had ample amounts of flesh, but she was well constructed. Her body was generous rather than superfluous. Despite her small size, she was stronger than he, with a body type that seemed utterly suited to her purpose as a warrior. He respected that. He had no use for things that were frivolous. He bent to kiss her neck, enjoying her taste. She reminded him of the earth, with a musk that suggested things homey and hidden.

He let Obsidian push him back into the covers of the bed, before pulling her to him to kiss her on the lips, neck, and breast. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that brought him a certain degree of pleasure. Her nightdress was hiked about her thighs as she straddled him, her body a warm, solid weight on his chest. She leaned down to unlace his breeches, her hands moving over him in a way that was more familiar than foreign. Her touch recalled memories of other times. Of returning to Gwaren after long military campaigns. Of the touch of a woman who had loved him, of family and hearth and home.

He pushed her to their side, so that he could see her face. He did not wish to be alone tonight, either, and desired her company more than the pleasure of her body. He felt himself smile when she ran a small hand over his stomach.

"Was I doing something wrong?" she asked, her brow creased.

Loghain drew her into an embrace and kissed her. "No," he said. "Tell me what you want."

Obsidian shifted so that she could remove her gown. "To be at peace. To have the arch-demon dead. For all darkspawn to die and leave Orzammar alone forever and ever." She pulled him to her. "For now, I'll settle for a warm bed."

She took one of his hands in hers, and moved it between her thighs. Loghain let the hand linger, brushing against the flesh and watching her reactions in the dim light. She was not so different from a human woman, he though. The curls of her sex with damp with moisture, and she whimpered slightly as he brushed his fingers along the folds of her flesh, gasping when he let one sink into her.

She rocked against his hand, her face clenched in pleasure as he thrust in and out, adding a second finger as she grew warmer. A series of convulsions let him know when she had finished, and he waited for her breath to slow before he shifted and pressed against her.

Her face tightened as he did so. "Slowly," she breathed. "Dwarfs are shaped differently."

Using what restraint he could summon, Loghain slid slowly into her, waiting for her to move before he continued. Her body slid against his with a satisfying friction, and she reached up to his shoulders to pull him to her. He gripped her full hips in his hands as he pulled her to body closer to his, using her solid weight as an anchor. She met his movements, moving her own body in time with his, and biting against his chest as they moved together.

Her movements sped as he let a hand drift to her groin, stroking it as she whimpered. He felt her stiffen in his arms, and allowed himself to lose that last bit of control. He thrust quickly a few last times, before pushing one last, satisfying time into her warmth.

They stayed together for a long time like that, with Obsidian held in his arms, her face pressed against his chest. Eventually he felt her shift against him.

"Thank you for that," she said, her small hands stroking his chest. "I appreciate you letting me be with you tonight."

He smiled, and moved a hand to tousle her hair. Come what may in the next month, he was glad to not be alone this evening. It was one thing they had in common. One thing their people could share.


End file.
